


Picking Up The Pieces

by Caren M Rose (CarenRose)



Category: Star Trek
Genre: Epilepsy, Espionage, Implied/Referenced Suicide, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Section 31, Vulcan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-29
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:20:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CarenRose/pseuds/Caren%20M%20Rose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"What can you do when everything falls apart?"<br/>The crew of the USS Taurus pick up a visitor who proves to be more than meets the eye. And everything they have come to know is slowly falling apart.</p><p>Set in 2428 and later, approximately 45 years after the events of the tenth movie, Nemesis.<br/>Entirely OCs.<br/>Not in continuity with the 2009 and later movies.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue: Underground & Chapter 1: Diagnosis

**Author's Note:**

> Super-Note (all chapters):
> 
> I have undertaken the task of re-writing the earlier chapters of PUTP. In the several years that it has taken me to write this, I have not only developed certain characters, Olivia especially, more thouroughly, but I have also acquired more knowledge about these characters themselves, simply by writing them. Unfortunately, this left a story with inconsistencies, primarily in characterization. In addition, the "Chapter X, Part 1/Part 2" thing was a little excessive, so I have re-numbered chapters and am aligning them with 's chapter drop-down selection.
> 
> All original characters by me, Star Trek franchise not by me.  
> This story was originally written to be a sim story, meaning it is supposed to be accompanied by pictures from the Sims 2. See it with pics at moonlightdragon.freeforums.org (google the name of the story for simplicity.)
> 
> Currently the Graphic Depictions Of Violence warning only applies to chapter 4.

**  
Prologue: Underground **

* * *

Cirtri. Situated in a quiet little corner near Federation space, it didn't seem like much would happen there. The planet itself was beautiful, serene, a good vacation spot. If it weren't for the fighting.

For many years, the two rival governments of Cirtri had been fighting a war of sorts, a war of threats, alliances, and midnight stealth attacks. The two often involved themselves in the affairs of such powers as the Federation and the Romulans, supporting their respective allies with technology and supplies, and getting the advantage of having someone much bigger on their side.

And thus was the situation now. Within the Federation, there was a near-rebellious coalition of developing worlds that wanted a faster rate of technological development than the Federation thought was good for them. Their former leader, a peaceful, charismatic man, had been assassinated and replaced by someone with much more militant ideas. Cirtri's Lecxéan government began showing concerning support for the faction's new leader.

So, the Federation sent unofficial ambassadors T'Lea and Kareb to their unofficial ally, Xis, to try to swing events in the Federation's favor.

While they were there, however, Lexcé attacked Xis' capital city, Euneva-Kwa, in the middle of the night, forcing a complete evacuation of the city into its extensive network of underground tunnels.

It was from this situation that Capt. Andersen and the USS Taurus was sent to rescue them, and return them home.

* * *

 

* * *

 

* * *

**Chapter 1: Diagnosis**

* * *

Dr. Hernandez, Chief Medical Officer, straightened several PADDs on her desk and instructed the computer to turn off her office lights.

There was a sharp rapping on the transparent aluminum walls, and her assistant, Dr. Steve Mackenzie, was standing outside waving.

"Computer, unlock doors."

The door slid open. She stared at him.

"Hey, Olivia. Uh ... are you leaving?"

"I left a message to your terminal."

"Oh. I haven't checked it yet."

"On your request, I leave a message every day to inform you when I leave." Which was at the same time every day. Yet he still insisted on stopping her on random days on her way out.

"I ... I'm right next door. Like ... two meters away."

"Yes, you are."

"Well, um, anyway, goodnight, Olivia. See you in the morning." He still stood in the doorway, blocking her way out

"Goodnight."

He turned and went back into his own office, and Olivia left Sickbay, taking her usual route back to her quarters, which took her through the guest quarters section before officers' quarters.

Rounding the corner to the guest quarters' corridor, she saw a dark form lying, motionless, on the floor. She fumbled for her medical tricorder as she picked up her pace.

As she neared, she recognized the robes the person was wearing and realized it had to be T'Lea, the Vulcan un-official they were bringing home. She dropped to her knees on the floor and felt for a pulse, finding one, and finally succeeding in retrieving her tricorder. T'Lea was not breathing.

She tapped her combadge and called the EMH in sickbay. "I need an AG-lift at my location immediately."

He appeared next to her with the anti-grav stretcher in less than ten seconds.

"She's cyanotic," he noted. "What happened?"

"I found her here like this. She's apneic, heart rate at 150." She turned to him. "Help me lift her up."

Once they got T'Lea up on the stretcher, she began breathing again, and both Olivia and the EMH hurried to scan her.

"Resps returning to normal," The EMH reported.

"Good."

They ran back to Sickbay. "Hypotonia, mild lactic acidosis ... Probably post-ictal," Olivia said. "Find her husband for me, we will need to talk to him."

Sickbay's doors opened and Steve met them at the doors. Doc, the EMH, disappeared to find Kareb.

"You're back. What happened?" he asked as they transferred T'Lea to the main biobed.

"I found her apneic and bradycardic, heart rate at 150 ... both pulse and resps have returned to normal. Hypertensive, hypotonic, mild lactic acidosis, decreased cortical activity ... "

Steve read the results of the scan passed to his tricorder. "Seizure?"

"Put the results of a full head scan up on the lab screen."

Steve nodded.

They worked quietly for a few minutes, Steve coordinating scans, Olivia testing reflexes, level of consciousness, and such, noticing that Steve kept moving in more and more towards her personal space.

"What are you doing?"

"Running scans."

"You're too close."

He stepped back. "Sorry." He turned and walked off to the lab screens.

T'Lea moaned and started to roll onto her side.

Olivia came to her side. "T'Lea, can you hear me?"

She moaned in response.

"Steve," Olivia called. He looked up at her, but didn't return.

"Where ... am I?"

"You're in Sickbay. You've had a seizure."

"Kareb?"

"I don't know where he is. The EMH is finding him."

Steve spoke up. "Where is Doc, anyway? He should have gotten back by now, shouldn't he?"

"I don't know." She turned back to T'Lea. "T'Lea, I need to know, have you ever had a seizure before?"

She slowly rolled over so her back was turned to Olivia, and mumbled, "Just leave me alone."

Olivia sighed. "T'Lea, this is important."

"Leave me alone."

"I am sure you are in some pain, and not feeling well, but a seizure can be a very serious sign ..."

T'Lea groaned.

"Olivia," Steve called, interrupting her. "I've got your scans up over here. I think the questions can wait 'til later." He motioned towards the screen.

She shook her head and followed.

"Look."

The scan revealed three large areas of past damage where healthy neurons had grown completely intertwined with damaged ones, some even forming connections with the damaged cells.

"I'm guessing this isn't her first seizure," Steve said. "You're the neurologist, what do you think?"

"Neurosurgeon," she corrected. "Computer, show overlying structures."

What appeared was a skull with healed fractures, each lying directly over an area of damage.

"Depression fractures." Steve sighed. "Blunt-force trauma."

"Computer, give me the approximate age of injuries."

"Level of healing consistent with injuries greater than fifteen years in age. Estimates past this point in time may not be accurate."

She walked back over to T'Lea.

"T'Lea, this isn't the first time you've had a seizure, is it?"

She groaned and rolled over. Olivia had awoken her. "No."

"What happened?"

"I thought I asked to be left alone."

Olivia sighed. She often had trouble getting her patients to tell her what she wanted to know ... surgery was so much easier than this.

Suddenly, the EMH appeared in the doorway. "Kareb wants to know if his wife will be returning to him tonight."

"You didn't bring him?" Steve asked.

"It appears our patient has a history of recurring seizures. He is not concerned."

"So he's demanding her back?"

"No. He wants to know if she is returning tonight, and if she is not, he will come here to Sickbay. He also wishes to know if she has regained consciousness yet."

T'Lea attempted to pull herself into a sitting position. "Yes, I will be returning."

"I don't think that's a good idea." Olivia said.

"Tell him I'm on my way." With that, she stood up, albeit unsteadily, leaning on the bed for support. Steve rushed over to catch her if she fell.

"Don't ... touch me."

"You're leaving against medical advice," Olivia said.

"I know."

"You have to sign ..."

T'Lea cut her off. "Just leave me alone."

"We're only trying to help you," Steve said, still standing close enough to catch her if she fell.

"At least wear this." Olivia held out a neurocortical monitor. "It'll alert Sickbay if you have another seizure."

T'Lea shook her head and groaned, but allowed Olivia to put it on. With that, she walked out of Sickbay, slowly and supporting herself along everything in her path.

"Doc, follow her. I don't want her falling and hurting herself."

He nodded, and followed.

"Well, then ..." Steve began.

"Well then what?"

"That was interesting."

"That was not 'interesting.' She left AMA."

"Yeah. I think we managed to upset a Vulcan ambassador."

"I do not think we should have allowed her to go so easily."

"What should we have done? Restrain her? You can't do that, Olivia."

"You could have convinced her to stay."

" _I_  could have, huh?"

"Yes."

"Well, I'm glad you have confidence in my abilities, then. But I don't think she was going to stay no matter who talked to her." He headed towards his office. "Well, Olivia, I need to get back to what I was working on before you guys came in. I'll see you in the morning."

"I also have work to do. I will be in my office."

"You just left for the night like, half an hour ago. You have more work now?"

"Yes."

"Relating to T'Lea, am I right?"

"Why does it matter?"

"It doesn't, really. I just ... have you eaten supper yet?"

"No."

"Well ... uh, we ... I don't have any patients now, so maybe we could sit, you know, grab something to eat, sit here and talk, you know, collaborate. Work ... together."

"I prefer to work alone."

"I - I know ... I just ... you know, never mind. It's okay." He turned back towards his office, muttering under his breath, "Don't know why I even try. You probably hate me anyway."

"I don't hate you."

He whipped around. "You heard that?"

"You are not as quiet as you think."

"You don't hate me."

"I don't."

"Then why do you go out of your way to avoid being around me, Olivia?"

"I don't. I do not avoid you. I spend more time with you than with anyone else in the department."

"Yeah ... at work. 'Anyone else in the department.'" He sighed. "It's just work to you, isn't it?"

"It is work. What do you want it to be to me?"

"I want us to be friends, you know ... like you and Thelis. You spend time with him, you go running with him every day. It's not like I'm jealous ... but, I mean, would it kill you not to shoot me down every time I suggest doing something together that's not required by our jobs?"

"Thelis and I exercise because it is good for our health. We converse about things related to work."

"Well, then."

She cocked her head to the side.

"Look, Olivia, I know you spent a bunch of time at Starfleet Medical, where you didn't have to live with and deal with the people you worked with all the time. And I understand that you've been hurt, in the past. I get that. You know, I know it's got to be hard for you. And ... and, I'm sorry. I just ... please don't push people away because of that."

She looked back at him, both confusion and pain written on her face.

"Hey, I ... I'm sorry. I guess I shouldn't have brought that up."

"If you wish, I will spend time with you tonight."

"You don't have to, Olivia."

"Do you want me to spend time with you or not?"

"I do, but ..."

"Then I will. Do you want to work in my office?"

"Sure."

"Then go get a PADD."

* * *

Steve sat in his office. Olivia had actually made an effort to do something with him. But he felt terrible, like he'd guilted her into doing it.

It wasn't even anything that wonderful. They sat on the couches in the little "waiting room" inside her office, she ate a big plate full of plain rice, and they talked about neurology.

Now she was still there, still working, almost three hours after she was off, two hours after he left her alone again. She'd probably end up falling asleep there tonight, like she had so many times before.

He didn't know what it was about her, why she could drive him crazy but he still couldn't stop thinking about her. Why he'd gladly take her abrasiveness over her absence any day.

How had this happened, he wondered almost every day now. How had he fallen in love with her, fallen so hard?

And why couldn't he help but let tonight give him so much hope?


	2. Remainder

**Chapter 2: Remainder**

* * *

**Ten Years Ago**

He liked flowers.

She'd hurt him once, because of flowers. One of the frequent misunderstandings they had, she didn't see how dead flowers were anything positive, and he had gotten upset, offended by what she had said.

They had gotten through that, and so many other misunderstandings like it.

He gave her things she liked after that - old medical equipment to display, skeleton models - and she began working on a wall-sized display of replicated flower petals arranged by the Fibonacci sequence.

The first time he had tried to propose to her, she wasn't expecting it, anything like it, and was totally unprepared. She had said she would have to consider it. She wasn't really one to make big life decisions on the fly like that.

And so she had hurt him again. She didn't mean to, she never did, not him.

But they got through that, too. He never gave up on her.

Three weeks after the first attempt, he proposed again, and she accepted.

Then came the Tholians, the war.

He left to fight, and she stayed, aboard a medical ship. She reattached and restored functionality to severed limbs, innervated prosthetics, fixed and replaced intervertebral discs, attempted to repair damaged spinal cords, to fix badly damaged brains. During surgery she wore the ring on the necklace he gave her before he left. A necessity for a surgeon, he had said. She didn't want to ever take it off.

Then, one day, she received a message, saying he and several of his team had been taken captive.

The war went on, several of his comrades were rescued, but he did not return.

Some of her colleagues tried to suggest to her that he might not ever return.

But she had made him flowers. Flower petals. A wall-sized display of them. Roses, because that was romantic.

He had to return.

And he did return. After the war was over, a part of a prisoner exchange.

Bruised and broken, starved and scarred, he returned to her.

She sat with him for hours every day. She helped him sit, walk, to rebuild muscles wasted away. She tried to feed him when he wouldn't eat. She tried to hold him when he needed comfort. She cared for him. She loved him.

But he was pushing her away.

Their head counselor worked with her, tried to explain, to teach her how to help him heal.

But all the things he had once done for her, all the things he had once asked, were gone. She wore the ring he had given her, but he treated her like a stranger.

As his physical recovery continued, she demanded an answer.

He said he was not half the man he once was. He was broken, defective. She deserved better. He told her that they should break their engagement. He would be nothing but a burden to her the rest of her life. He wished to free her of himself.

How could she give up on him, when he hadn't given up on her so many times before?

But he was giving up now. Giving up on her, on everything.

All those times before, all those things they had been through together, didn't count for anything.

She tried to win him back. So she brought him to her quarters, to show him what she had created for him, what had been waiting for him for months.

Because he liked flowers.

But he didn't like _her_ flowers.

He insulted her gift, insulted her, and left, leaving her standing there wondering what might have gone wrong this time.

She destroyed the flower-thing. She destroyed months of work, shattering glass everywhere, until her floor was a minefield of shards too scattered to pick up. Then she kicked and threw things and tore apart the room, destroying everything in sight until she had no energy left.

Then she withdrew. From life, from everything, from everyone. She reported for duty like she was required, but she refused to speak to anyone and she avoided anyone who might try to speak to her.

He didn't try to bring her back. He didn't try to talk things out. He didn't even tell her what she had done wrong. None of the things he used to do, he did anymore.

The automatic cleaning system helped her pick up all the little pieces of glass, and she began to wonder if maybe this could be solved if she apologized. In the thousand times she had replayed the situation in her mind, she could not find anything she'd done wrong.

But maybe she had missed something.

Because all she really wanted was for things to be right again.

* * *

Walking down the hall.

Doors open.

His quarters. Something off, something wrong. Panic setting in.

His things, cast around the room. Disarray.

She smelled blood. Something wrong ... her stomach flipped. Something ... wrong ...

There was blood. Too much blood. Too much ... His eyes ... glazed, empty.

A scream caught in her throat. She couldn't move. She can't move.

Part of her there, part of her watching.

Blood.

Labored breathing, slow, irregular.

Yellow shirts entering the room.

Pushing forward, falling forward, on her knees. Blood on her hands.

Blue shirts, arms pulling her back. No more breathing. No more sound.

Too much noise.

Cardiac stimulator.

No ... she couldn't lose him ...

Ventricular fibrillation ...

Hold on ... just hold on ...

Asystole.

As the pieces of her life shattered, she began to scream.

She awoke in dim light, the cold comfort of her office surrounding her. She wiped sweat from her neck, tears from her eyes.

Breathe in ... breathe out. Deep breaths to calm her racing heart. She spun the ring around her finger, let out a sigh. She wouldn't get back to sleep for a while now. She never could after she'd had the dream.

Olivia paced through the empty Sickbay. Steve was in his office, working. She didn't want him to know.

She wandered between the counters in the lab.

There was a sudden noise, and she gasped, turning around to see what was behind her.

It was just Steve, coming out from his office. She exhaled slowly.

"Olivia," he called across the empty room, "are you okay?"

"It's nothing you need to know," she mumbled back.

"Olivia?"

She walked over to him, slowly.

"You had the dream again, didn't you?" He knew her too well.

"I ... how ..."

"I heard you scream."

"Oh. It ... doesn't matter."

"If you need to talk about it, Olivia, you know I'm here."

"I don't want to talk about it. Nothing's wrong."

"Olivia, I heard you scream. This isn't the first time. I just don't think that nothing is wrong."

"Dr. Mackenzie, I don't care what you think, but I said I don't want to talk about it."

"Sorry for caring," he mumbled, but was cut off by a sudden beeping. He sighed and checked the source. "It's T'Lea, she's having another seizure! That's two ... in less than eight hours!"

He headed for the door, grabbing a medkit from the shelves. Olivia bolted past him, down the corridor. This couldn't be good.

* * *

The door was locked, so they waited outside for an answer, hoping Kareb would be there. They hoped he was awake, hoped he knew what was going on ...

Finally, he emerged, slowly. He looked ... pained, for a Vulcan.

"Kareb?" Steve asked.

"Yes. I apologize for making you wait, but I had to make sure she would not injure herself." He stopped, searching their faces, perhaps trying to gauge if they saw his distress. "I assume that is why you came, because of the seizure."

Olivia nodded.

"I understand your concern." He paused. "However, it has been nearly forty years, that she's had these seizures, and ..."

"Wait, forty years?" Olivia inturrupted.

"Yes."

"That - that's ... What happened?" She stepped closer to him, he turned and stared at the light on the floor.

"Thirty-seven years ago ...

* * *

Thirty-seven years ago, T'Lea and Kareb were attending a conference on interplanetary trade, held at a hotel on the planet Xitene. They had two seven year old daughters staying at home with family, while they brought their newborn son along with them. It was only the first day of the conference and they had just broken for lunch, when they heard screams. Something had gone horribly wrong.

A local but powerful xenophopic group had established a base for themselves in the hotel, and, having waited for a break, kidnapped as many people as they could from the conference. They separated their hostages by race: all their own were still held against their will, but treated fairly, and all others were, well, not treated so fairly.

T'Lea and Kareb were placed in a room with a young Andorian kid, who was quiet, kept to himself most of the time. That evening, he barely picked at his dinner, some meat dish which neither T'Lea nor Kareb touched. Kareb wrapped their son tightly and was putting him to sleep, when the Andorian made his move.

Every stretch of hall was watched over by two guards, one at each end. Their room was near the middle, slightly closer to one side than the other. Kareb hadn't really seen what happened, all he knew was that the Andorian tried to escape, the guard from the near end of the hall ran after him, raised his weapon to shoot, and was dropped unconscious to the floor by a neck pinch from T'Lea.

The guard from the other end of the hall, a big muscular guy with a short temper and a solid metal club, came running. Finding his comrade lying on the floor, dead for all he knew, he attacked. Kareb watched from behind the open door, forced to choose between saving his wife and protecting his child, as the guard struck her on the head.

With the first hit, she stumbled back, falling against the wall for support. He struck again, this time she fell to her knees. Through their bond, Kareb could feel her pain, could feel her starting to slip into unconsciousness. Then, another hit, this one crushing the back of her skull, smashing her face into the floor. There was no more pain. The guard, satisfied that she didn't respond to a hard kick in the stomach, dragged her into the room. Kareb stepped back, arms raised in a gesture that he hoped would convey he was unarmed, but anger threatened to overtake him. The guard advanced, now holding a syringe of clear liquid, backing Kareb into a corner. There was only one way to escape: the balcony, a route that meant sure death for him, his wife, and his son, if it was not sure already. If he chose to fight, he knew other guards would only come and finish them off, he knew he would be unable to fight them all.

He only hoped whatever the vial contained would not be lethal.

Two days later, he awoke to find a young Xitene girl rocking his wailing infant. She told him how she had been sent the night before to shut up the starving baby, how she'd been encouraged to just toss him over the balcony's rails, how she found T'Lea face down on the floor, conscious but unable to move, struggling to breathe through her own vomit. She told him how she'd tried to lift her up, but couldn't, and turned her on her side. She told him about the violent convulsions early that morning, and how, when she finally woke up, she was able to move again.

T'Lea was asleep on the bed. Kareb fought hard to keep back the tears. Blood oozed from her ears, her nose, and the large gash on her forehead. It had filled in her orbits, giving her dark bruises beneath her eyes. He gently caressed her face, but she did not respond.

* * *

"For the first week, she couldn't speak. She couldn't see, that last strike damaged her occipital lobe. She still remembers nothing of the first two weeks after she was attacked. At that point, she still didn't have many seizures." He took a slow, deep breath, then continued. "She got meningitis, just when we thought she was beginning to recover. Then, the seizures increased, she began having five, seven a day ... Finally, after about three months, she was starting to do better, she was slowly getting her sight back, she was able to get up and walk around, to take care of our son. But she was still having seizures. I told her, when we got home, I was sure there was something they could do for her. Six months after the injury, we were still there. We were not able to escape until it had been two years. Everyone else who tried before then was shot on sight." He paused again, shifting his weight from one leg to the other. "When we returned to Vulcan and were able to seek medical help, we learned that there was nothing anyone could do for her. Had we had access to care even six months after the injury, they would have been able to help. But due to the regrowth of healthy neurons into the damaged areas over time ..."

"I saw that," Olivia said suddenly. "It's inoperable, at least by any conventional means."

"Right. Now, the only thing that can help her is drug therapy. With anticonvulsants, instead of 3-5 seizures every day, she only has about four a week."

"Only?"

Kareb suddenly looked back at the closed door behind him. "She's regained consciousness. I must go."

"Thank you," Steve said, "We appreciate you taking the time to tell us all this."

Awkwardly, Olivia offered, "I'm a neurosurgeon ... If, uh, if she wouldn't mind, I'd like to talk to her."

Kareb simply turned and went back into his room.


	3. Offering

**Chapter 3: Offering**

* * *

On T'Lea and Kareb's second evening aboard the _Taurus_ , Captain Andersen invited them to a formal dinner with his senior staff.

Olivia had been asked to come - being a member of the senior staff - but she had convinced Steve to come along with her, citing her dislike of overly fancy social events. He had agreed readily. Really, she just felt like having someone there to back her up when she talked to T'Lea.

For nearly an hour, they had all sat around drinking synthehol and making small talk.

There was a sort of uneasy silence between Olivia and T'Lea throughout the whole time. Olivia knew better than to bring up the previous night's events - she was required to keep them confidential - but she had come prepared for the end of the dinner, when she would have a chance to talk to T'Lea alone.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of listening through mindless chatter, forcing herself to remain politefully alert - she had only slept three of the last thirty-six hours - people began to say their goodbyes and goodnights.

Olivia moved herself towards the back of the crowd that had formed around the Vulcans. Slowly, the crowd dwindled until there was just Steve ahead of her, talking to Kareb.

Motioning T'Lea towards her, she picked up the PADD she'd brought along. T'Lea came, followed by Kareb, then Steve. She hadn't counted on having an audience.

"T'Lea," she began, handing the PADD to her, "I think you should come into Sickbay for some tests ... there've been new procedures developed since your injury, and I think there's a possibility I'd be able to help you."

Kareb stepped forward and took the PADD from his wife. "We appreciate your concern, Dr. Hernandez, but that won't be necessary."

"No, I'm serious. This really could work. I think -"

" _No thank you_ , Doctor. We do not require your help."

"But -"

"Olivia," Steve said quietly, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Let's go."

She shrugged off the unwanted touch as Kareb and T'Lea turned away, heading for the exit. She started to follow.

"Where are you going?" Steve asked.

She turned, about to make some excuse, but Steve just shook his head.

Frustrated, she turned again and went for the opposite exit. She knew what she had to do next. She just didn't know if it would work.

Sickbay was empty and there was nothing left to do, so Steve let his curiosity get to him.

Olivia hadn't had a reason to spend the night in her office again, so Steve sat down at her desk, looking for a way to find out what information she'd given T'Lea.

On the top of a stack of PADDs sat an article, seven years old, detailing promising new surgical techniques to carefully remove damaged brain tissue. Among the authors was none other than Olivia Hernandez, MD.

Steve sighed. Of course she would think her own work could solve everyone's problems. Olivia was one of the top neurosurgeons in Starfleet, if not the entire Federation.

He started skimming over the summary. She'd described the procedure to him before. Despite her earlier behavior, it looked like she actually had a point. This could actually help T'Lea.

* * *

"I need you to talk to someone."

Olivia stood in the doorway of the counseling office, the Vulcan head counselor's back turned towards her.

"Who? A patient?" T'Kara asked, turning around.

"T'Lea."

"I heard what happened earlier. How you offered to help them ..."

"They refused."

"Olivia, my job as head counselor is not to make people listen to you."

Olivia just stared at her.

"Do you really have a legitimate reason for wanting me to talk to her?"

"She's been living with this for thirty-seven years. But when I say I can help, they want nothing of it."

"Perhaps they're tired of being poked and prodded and experimented on."

"This isn't just experimentation. I've proven it actually works."

"She's an interesting case, isn't she?"

"What?"

"There's so many things you could learn, it's such a great opportunity ..."

"Are you going to talk to her or not?"

"Olivia, face it. To her, you're just like countless other doctors who've taken interest in her before. You believe you'll be able to cure her, but all that becomes of it is a series of tests and invasions into her personal life. Wanting to avoid that does not require the further prying of a session with a psychiatrist."

"I think she may have stopped taking her medication."

"How did you come to this conclusion?"

"When we talked to Kareb, he said with medication she has about four seizures a week. Without, she has about that many a _day_." She paused. "She's had three in the past 24 hours."

"I believe your conclusion may be valid. I'll have Ms. LaVena talk to her."

"I don't want Staci to do it, I want _you_ to."

"Do you doubt her competence?"

"No, but you're Vulcan, you'll have a better chance with her."

"To suggest to a Vulcan that they need to see a psychologist implies you believe they are unable to properly deal with their own emotions. Were this suggestion to come from another Vulcan, it would likely be taken as a grievous insult."

"I don't care."

"Olivia, you cannot insult your patients."

"So will you talk to her?"

"I don't believe it would be wise."

"Why would you send Staci?"

"She may be more inclined to give her the 'benefit of the doubt' than with me."

Olivia crossed her arms.

"Why don't you try to talk to her yourself? Try to work on using your empathy?"

"You're the empath."

"You don't have to be an empath to talk to her, Olivia."

"I don't think they want to talk to me."

"Why?"

"They told me to leave them alone."

"I'll see what I can do."

"Will you talk to her?"

"I'll see what I can do."

"Does that mean you will talk to her?"

"I suppose so. I'll be apologizing for your behavior."

"I don't care."

"You really must work on your interpersonal skills, Olivia. They'll do you good."

"I'm a neurosurgeon, not a shrink."

"You don't have to turn all your patients and staff against you to be a good neurosurgeon."

"I _am_ a good neurosurgeon."

"Olivia, just try to be nice to your patients, please."

She shrugged.

"I know we've had this conversation before. Steve and I cannot be nice to people _for_ you. You need to make some effort."

"Steve seems to think things are good."

"Steve will think _everything_ is good because he is in love with you."

"I wish he'd stop."

" _Goodnight,_ Olivia. I will see you at the department meetings tomorrow." She turned back around.

"When will you talk to her?"

"On my own time. This conversation is over now, Olivia. Goodnight."

* * *

The ship's operations manager and science officer, Solkan, sat in the dark in his quarters, the doors locked, light from his desk comm screen illuminating his face. He spoke in quiet tones with a man named Jeremiah Hanson.

"Their names are T'Lea and Kareb," he said for the second time.

"I assume you've found something of interest about them beyond their recent activities on Cirtri?"

"They have potentially useful ties to Romulus."

"Solkan, you know the Romulans are not our main concern right now." He paused. "Alright, go ahead."

"They were ambassadors from 2356 to 2380, most notably, the Vulcan ambassadors to Romulus from 2371 to 2380. They adopted the child of the Romulan ambassadors to Vulcan in 2379, after Shinzon's coup. This effectively ended their career as ambassadors. Eight years later, in 2387, they were taken hostage and T'Lea was severely injured. Ten -"

Hanson interrupted. "Hold on. Just because they had ties to Romulus over forty years ago does not mean they are of any interest to us now, Solkan."

"Beginning in 2356, the year they became ambassadors - with only a 10-year break after T'Lea's injury - until eight years ago, they have been active agents in V'Shar - Vulcan's intelligence and security agency."

"What happened eight years ago?"

"The former director of V'Shar retired and his replacement had a different outlook and philosophy on how it should be run. However, whether this was their reason for resigning is unknown. Since then, they've been working for themselves, usually furthering the direct interests of the Federation."

"Are you absolutely sure about their _current_ ties to Romulus?"

He hesitated.

"I'll look into this. In the meantime, you need to keep focused on your goal. Remember that."

"I always do."

"No, you haven't been. Everything you've brought to me recently has been about the Romulans or the Tholians. You're concerned too much with the past and not enough with the present, Solkan. Our main focus should be on the state of the Federation right now, not on wars that ended years ago. Understood?"

"I understand you've looked into everything I've given you, even 'recently.'"

"Only because I'm obligated to check every lead I get, no matter how promising or how absurd."

"Of course."

"Have Calais contact me tonight. I need to speak to her about a few things."

"Of course."

The screen went black.

* * *

At 0800 the next morning, Staci LaVena, first-year psychiatric resident, walked into the Counseling office for the start of her shift.

"You're fifteen minutes late," came the voice from within one of the private session rooms.

Staci was taken aback. The Vulcan hadn't even turned around. "I'm sorry," she began. "I was just -"

"No explanation is necessary, Ms. LaVena." A pause. "You'll be working with Dr. Hernandez today."

"I'm not scheduled to work with her until tomorrow."

"I am aware of that. You will also work with her tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Now, I have a patient to see." She headed for the door.

"Shouldn't I come -"

"I will be speaking to my patient alone, Ms. LaVena. Dr. Hernandez is expecting you."

She sighed. Following T'Kara out of the door, Staci walked across the hall to Sickbay. She wondered to herself if this was some sort of disciplinary action for being late, or if there was something so important about T'Kara's patient that she couldn't shadow her like usual, or ...

"You're late."

"Sorry, Dr. Hernandez. I was -"

"I need you to start this for me," Olivia began, motioning for Staci to come closer. "I need you to look through these articles and write up a short summary of each for me."

Staci looked at the stack of PADDs on the counter.

Olivia then walked over to Dantarea Antekais, the Aeorsian biological sciences intern, asking her to do something else

"Wait, Dr. Hernandez," Staci called. "Where are you going?"

"I have things I need to do today, Ms. LaVena. I would appreciate if you both have your work done by the time I return." With that, she turned on her heel and walked out of Sickbay.

Staci looked at the headings on the top few articles. None of them were about psychology. Vulcan neurology, the treatment of seizure disorders in various species, some neurosurgical procedure she'd never heard of before ... Dr. Hernandez often did this to her, giving her busywork to do that never related to her field. Olivia seemed to have little interest in psychiatry, even neuropsychology. Everything with her was straight neurology, neurosurgery ... and all very complex.

"What does she have you working on, Dantarea?"

The colorful-haired girl just shook her head, indicating she had no idea.

Staci nodded, wondering why there had to be so much mystery today.

* * *

**Later that day**

"She's very determined."

"Stubborn. She can't take 'no' for an answer."

"Maybe we should give her a chance."

"She sent their head counselor after me to 'talk' about things. An empathic Vulcan. I will not let Olivia pry any further into our private lives."

"She sent the head counselor ..."

"Yes. She told her I'd stopped taking my medication. Did you tell Olivia that?"

"No. I would not do that."

"But you told her how many seizures I've been having so she would figure it out."

"T'Lea ..."

"We don't need her 'help,' Kareb. We don't need the intrusion."

"But if there's the possibility -"

"No."

He fell silent. _You know I can hardly bear to see you like this._

_I've had epilepsy for 37 years._

_Yes, but it hasn't been this bad, since ..._

_I know. But I can think so much clearer, faster now that I'm not taking it._

_I fear for you._

_Fear is -_

_Logical. With as many seizures as you've been having ..._

_It hasn't happened yet._

Finding their hands clasped together, T'Lea backed up, distancing herself from him. "I want you to talk to her assistant, Dr. Mackenzie. Find out what her interest is in me. Find out why she can't back down. Then perhaps we can get her to leave us alone."

"I don't think it would be right of us to use him like that. Besides, we'll be back home soon enough."

"She thinks she can 'fix' me. Our being home won't stop her for long."

"It's still not right to use Dr. Mackenzie like that."

* * *

"Kareb!"

Kareb turned, realizing the voice was that of Dr. Mackenzie's. Steve ran towards him.

"I was hoping to find you here," the doctor said.

"I am on my way to talk to Capt. Andersen. What can I do for you?"

"Oh, well, if you're busy ... There are just a few things I would like to talk with you about. Perhaps we can set up a time? This evening?"

"The captain and I are only having lunch. I will be free in approximately one hour."

"Sounds good. I'll be here."

* * *

"Thank you again for taking the time to talk to me, Kareb."

Kareb nodded, now finding himself caught between his own curiosity, his desire to help T'Lea, and what he said he was so against, using Steve only as a way to get Olivia to back down.

"I'd really like to talk to you about Olivia's offer," Steve began.

"We said we're not interested."

"I know. And trust me, I'm not here because she sent me. But I read what she gave you, and I feel I need to try to do a better job of explaining it to you, rather than just shoving it at you and saying 'this will fix all your problems.'"

"Do you believe it _could_ 'fix all our problems?'"

"I do believe it's likely it would at least do some good, yes."

"You sound unsure."

"I won't make empty promises. But I do think it's a plausible option."

"Alright. What exactly does this procedure entail, that it is any better than anything else we've tried?"

"Are you familiar with GANST, gene-activated neurosomatic tagging, or AST, active synaptic tagging?"

"Remind me."

"Well, basically, both methods tag neurons based on different criteria. GANST can find and tag neurons by a specified RNA sequence, while AST tags any and all synapses, at the axon terminal, that fire within a certain amount of time, determined by a buffer chemical. Then, of course, the tagged neurons are removed or destroyed surgically."

"We've had doctors tell us that _both_ procedures would work, only to have them fail in simulations."

"Alone, they both have many problems. They tag too many cells, or not enough."

"Yes. Either they would have provided no reduction in the frequency of her seizures, or they would have destroyed good neurons, losing function that could have taken a year or more to recover, if ever."

"Olivia's developed a procedure that combines parts of each tagging method. Not all hyper-excitable neurons in the seizure focus contain the same RNA sequences, and some healthy cells have it. Likewise, in AST, since there is still normal activity occurring in the early stages of a seizure, there's a very high likelihood of tagging good neurons. What Olivia's done is found a way to combine the two methods, in addition to further identifying the RNA sequences that should be tagged. That way, only neurons that are tagged by _both_ methods are removed."

"Why couldn't they have been combined 25 years ago?"

"The solutions used for each procedure sort of canceled the other out. As GANST has improved, it now uses different solutions that are more compatible with AST."

"What would Dr. Hernandez' procedure involve?"

"She would introduce the solution into the cerebrospinal fluid near each seizure focus, and give it time to diffuse. The GANST starts tagging immediately. As the AST buffer turns on its tagging, she would trigger a seizure, causing the affected neurons to fire, and be tagged. The buffer turns it off just before the seizure activity breaks through the inhibitory surround." He paused to let the information sink in. "She would then run a simulation with the neurons tagged by both methods removed, to check for seizure control or loss of function. If the results aren't good, she tweaks the tagging protocols and tries again."

"How many times will she have to try?"

"Knowing Olivia, she's probably already run tons of simulations of the procedure, so it shouldn't be many. Perhaps ten? That's a rough estimate though."

"Ten? You want me to convince my wife to let Olivia trigger ten more seizures than she normally has?"

"She would only let it go as long as it takes to tag the cells."

"Then have her pumped full of anticonvulsants until she's unconscious, or until Olivia can't trigger any more seizures, whichever comes first?"

Steve fell silent, probably trying to think of a response.

Suddenly changing the subject, Kareb asked, "Dr. Hernandez doesn't like to give up, does she?

"If you're saying she's stubborn, yes, very."

"Does she pursue many of her patients like this?"

"No, not many. But not many people tell her no." He chuckled softly. "She's one of the best neurosurgeons in Starfleet - in the Federation - so you can imagine that's not something she gets a lot."

"How many neurosurgeons are there in the Federation?"

"Not many."

"How good is 'one of the best,' then?"

"Excellent."

He nodded, raised an eyebrow. "And she designed this procedure herself?"

"Yeah. Well, along with a few other doctors."

"Then it's no wonder she's so sure it will work."

Steve nodded, looking disappointed.

"She has taken quite an interest in us. More than other neurologists have. It's almost as if she has a personal interest in what happens to T'Lea."

Steve sighed. "This _has_ happened before. Not often, but it has. Last time, it was a kid with a disease that slowly turned his brain, essentially, into mush. That time, it was her persistence that let him live as long as he did. Now, I could be wrong about this - it could just be that she sees you as such an interesting case. But I think with _you_ her interest is primarily because she has epilepsy. And though -"

"Wait, what?" Kareb cut him off mid-sentence.

"Yeah, Olivia has epilepsy ... Oh. You didn't know." He paused. "I'm sorry. Olivia's pretty well known in and around Starfleet Medical, it's not often we come across someone who doesn't already know ...

"How can she be a surgeon?" he asked, eyebrow raised. Before Steve could answer, though, he said, "Is the epilepsy why she's so well known?"

"It's part of it, I'm sure. But there's a lot more to it ... Starfleet Medical Academy _loves_ being able to claim one of the Federation's top neurosurgeons as their own. Plus, she's been involved in some pretty high-profile stuff in the past. She was on a medical ship during the Tholian War, too, and along with other doctors, was given a sort of hero-status at the time ... And she's developed or helped to develop various new procedures ... In fact, I was a little surprised you didn't already know of her."

"We haven't exactly been looking for a neurosurgeon recently."

"Not recently at all, I suppose. She's been pretty well known for a while now. In fact, what's considered her greatest achievement, a procedure to fix severe spinal cord and peripheral nerve injures, was finished almost six years ago now."

"So, epilepsy?"

"Right. Absence seizures. They're a brief, nonconvulsive type of seizure, a sort of 'staring spell.' They keep a _very_ close watch on her. She has them maybe once every five years, if that. It's practically non-existent now. Hasn't really been an issue since she was a teenager, wanting to get into Starfleet."

"Is she on any kind of treatment?"

"No. In fact, she reacts rather badly to many anticonvulsants."

The eyebrow went up again.

Steve gave a quizzical look.

"Nothing."

Suddenly, Steve's combadge beeped. "Mackenzie here," he answered.

"Steve, you're late." Olivia's voice called. "Department meetings began five minutes ago."

The doctor sank down in his chair. "I'm sorry! I'll be there right away."

"I don't think you realize that when you are late, it comes back to me. I may not outrank you, but as the Chief Medical Officer, I'm responsible for everything you do. I already have enough to worry about with Solkan without you being late to department meetings. Which were scheduled far enough in advance that you should not be late!"

"Alright, I'm sorry! I will be there as soon as I can!" Turning to Kareb, he said, "Thank you again for taking the time to talk to me. I'm sorry to run out on you, but I really don't need angry superiors breathing down my neck for a month."

As Steve ran out, Kareb wondered how T'Lea would react to what he just found out. He just hoped it wouldn't make things any worse than they already were.


	4. Cloak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: certain parts of this chapter are a bit graphic, violent. They are also pictures.
> 
> I know it's weird that only one part is pictures right now, eventually I'll try to convert all of this to full simstory, but with the rewrites I've done I'm going to have to redo some of the pictures.

**Chapter 4: Cloak**

* * *

At department meetings that afternoon, Olivia had much on her mind. Too much.

Her thoughts were everywhere but on the matters at hand. Not that she felt the matters at hand were particularly important - mundane things like allocation of resources, staff scheduling, recent developments, and so on. Things she delegated to her assistant - Steve - who was here himself. But still, as chief medical officer, her presence, and unfortunately, her input, was required.

"Dr Hernandez!" Solkan nearly shouted. "Do you have anything to add?"

_Oh shoot. Add to what?_ She realized she'd hardly been paying attention to anything that was going on.

He cleared his throat impatiently.

"No. I have nothing to add." At times, she wondered if he tried to irritate her on purpose.

Solkan and the rest of the blue shirts in the room continued their mindless drawl as Olivia mentally reviewed her plans for the rest of the evening. She was off duty unusually early today, due to these meetings, and she had nearly as much to do as she had on her mind. It was going to be a busy, long day. She needed to speak to T'Kara before her usual run with Thelis, then had a meeting later with Staci LaVena, all three of which she had spent the entire morning preparing herself for. And then, as much as she did not like to, she needed to put a note in Dantarea's file. The biosciences intern had been putting some very promising effort into her research recently ...

Chairs were scraping against the floor, people shuffling around, and everyone around the room began getting up. _Finally_ , she thought, heading for the door as fast as she could.

Someone suddenly touched her shoulder. Startled, she stiffened and turned around, finding Steve. "What do you want?" she asked.

He sighed, looking sad or perhaps disappointed for a brief moment. But he smiled at her, and asked, "I was wondering, when you're off duty tonight, if you'd like to come see a holonovel with me, maybe have dinner afterwards?"

"I have a meeting tonight. I'm not free."

"Oh, well, how about tomorrow?"

The reality of what he had asked slowly sank in ... he was asking her on a date. "I'm busy tomorrow also," she finally said, shaking her head. "Maybe you can find someone else who can go with you?"

Without waiting for any answer, she walked out of the room, leaving Steve standing there speechless.

* * *

Late that afternoon, Commander Thelis and Olivia were warming up in the ship's gym for their near-daily run together.

"I think T'Lea and Kareb are avoiding me, Thelis," Olivia told him.

"I can't imagine why," he replied, stretching down to touch his feet.

"We're on the same ship, and I haven't so much as _seen_ them since last night."

He sighed.

"I just don't understand why ..."

He cut her off. "Olivia."

"What?"

"Yes, _of course_ they're avoiding you. Because you keep bugging them after they've declined your offer. Repeatedly. And you sent T'Kara after them, as well."

"With good reason."

"Olivia, just let it go. We'll be to Vulcan tomorrow morning. Then you won't have to worry about them any more."

The doors opened and they started jogging down the corridor.

"I can't just let it go. This is important."

"Olivia, do you even hear yourself? If they refuse, they refuse. That's their right. You can't just keep after them forever!"

"Alright," he said, "enough about that. I doubt I can ever convince you of anything. Just tell me what you were going to tell me about Solkan."

She nodded. "Last night, he and Calais both contacted Hanson again, within an hour of each other."

"Do you know what was said?"

"No, I just know that there was contact. The data stream was encrypted, as usual. I still haven't been able to break through, even though it seems they've used the same group of encryption codes each time."

"That's alright. Just keep at it, Olivia."

"The problem is, I'm a surgeon, not a spy. We need someone good at this on _our_ side."

"Well, I'll try to reconstruct whatever I can from the data logs, see if I can figure anything out."

"It won't work. Solkan wiped everything just minutes after the calls."

"From both him and Calais?"

"Yes. Everything."

"Great. They always have to cover their tracks, don't they? Maybe I should see what the Captain can do. I can have him alerted directly next time they make contact ..."

"You can try, but I think they're using diplomatic encryption codes, so even the Captain's codes won't override them. They know he's on our side."

"Great."

They broke into a full run.

"I think Solkan knows what we're doing," Olivia said between breaths.

"He has for a while." Thelis' antennae relaxed. "Really, you don't make things any better by aggravating him."

"Aggravating him?"

"Not paying attention in department meetings - when you're a department head, Olivia. You should know better."

"How did you find out?"

"It's sort of my job to know these things. Just because I wasn't there doesn't mean I can't find out."

"So he complained?"

"Yeah. To the Captain. Even after three years, he still won't do what he's supposed to and come to _me_ about stuff like that."

"He does not like you." She laughed, panting.

"You'd think a Vulcan wouldn't hold a grudge ... being un-emotional and all." He paused to breathe. "Really, though, you need to pay attention during department meetings, Olivia."

"Do you know what Steve did?"

"Other than show up late? You told me that already."

"I think ... he tried to ask me on a date!"

"Tried to? You think? You didn't turn him down, did you?"

"Of course I did!"

"Wha ... Olivia!" He stopped in his tracks, shaking his head.

She slowed and turned back towards him. "I'm not interested in him, so I turned him down. I'm already taken!"

"By a man who died ten years ago, Olivia! _Ten years ago!_ It's time to move on!"

She turned away, tears inexplicably threatening to come. She squeezed her eyes shut, then sprinted as fast as she could away from Thelis. Away from her problems. Away from everything she still couldn't face.

When she was not far down the hall, her combadge beeped. "LaVena to Hernandez," Staci's voice said.

Not wanting Thelis to catch up to her, she slowed only to a fast jog and answered. "Go ahead, Staci."

"Hey, I've got a question."

"Yes?" She was feeling pretty out of breath now.

"I'm wondering if we can cancel our meeting tonight? I kind of have a date."

"You should not have scheduled recreational activities when you knew you had this meeting coming up."

"It wasn't planned ... Steve just asked me to dinner and a holonovel with him, and I didn't give him an answer yet. I wanted to check with you first, and ... well ... I'd really like to."

_Steve ... asked her on a date?_ She was shocked, she hadn't expected this. "Uh ..." She didn't know what to say. Not only did she hate unexpected changes to her plans, but ... Steve ...

"If - if it's not okay, Dr. Hernandez, I guess I can tell him I can't do it. I don't know if I'd get another chance, but ... you know."

She picked up her pace again, her head now filled with all kinds of unexpected emotions. Strangely, what prevailed was anger towards Steve. "No, I don't know. Just go on your date, we will have our meeting tomorrow."

"Are you sure?" Staci asked. "I mean, you sound a little ..."

This conversation couldn't end soon enough. "If I wasn't sure I wouldn't have said that."

"Oh, well, okay. Thanks, Olivia."

"Whatever. Dr. Hernandez out."

Why was she angry at Steve? And Staci, for that matter? No, she couldn't be falling for him, she decided. All this confusion was simply because she hadn't slept well the past few nights, and she was letting herself get too wrapped up in all these emotions.

After all, she was already taken. And no one could ever take his place. Ever.

* * *

Leaving the Operations department meeting in a crowd of people, Ensign Newlin felt like someone was following her.

It was silly, of course, that she would feel that way with so many people leaving at once, and each of them going their own way ... but she still couldn't shake the feeling.

It had been this way ever since she'd been recruited by Section 31. She'd accepted their offer for the action, the excitement, but all she ever did now was look over her shoulder to ensure no one was watching her.

As she rounded the bend by Sickbay, she thought she heard footsteps behind her.

It was quite unlikely, she reasoned, that anyone was truly behind her, because she was taking the long route to her room, taking the turbolift down by senior officers' quarters, going past Sickbay ... they'd have to be taking the same indirect path to wherever they were going, too.

A large, male hand suddenly grasped her shoulder. She gasped, but didn't turn around. She felt the familiar sensation that the being who touched her was at least marginally telepathic.

_Commander Solkan_ , she thought. She finally looked, and found she was right.

"Tommorrow morning, we will arrive at Vulcan," he said, hushed and in a deep voice. "I noticed you are on duty in the transporter room at that time."

"Yes, sir," she said uneasily.

"Our guests, T'Lea and Kareb, will be departing." His volume dropped a few levels, and, one hand still on her shoulder, leaned closer to her face. "I want you to delay them with some 'routine maintenance.'"

"I'll be informed of their departure ahead of time, sir." She fought to keep her voice from wavering. "Any routine maintenance will be expected to wait."

"You will detect a problem in your normal daily scans, something that requires attention before they can transport. It will necessitate the scheduled procedure to not be put off, but be performed immediately. The data logs will support this if anyone cares to question it." He fingered a lock of her hair.

"How long before their departure will this 'problem' appear?"

"One hour."

She could feel his warm breath on her ear.

"The nature of the problem will make itself known to you tomorrow morning," he said. She wondered if he had sensed telepathically what she was about to ask. "It is not necessary for you to know tonight."

She nodded, and just as abruptly as he had come up behind her and grabbed her shoulder, his hand fell back to his side and he walked away, facing straight ahead, as if nothing at all had just happened.

She sighed, having more questions than answers.

Such was life in Section 31.

* * *

Exhausted and craving the sleep she had not gotten for the past few nights, Olivia slid under her covers, ready for the warmth to envelop her and let her fall into a peaceful sleep.

But as she turned off the lights, it felt like her mind turned on.

A thousand thoughts, frustrations, and worries rushed at her at once, demanding to be processed by her conscious mind before she could sleep. They just would not wait until REM sleep to surface.

She tried to lay still, to force herself to focus on _sleep_ , but her mind rebelled and her body followed. She was soon tossing, turning, the dull ache of exhaustion making it impossible to get comfortable but demanding a comfortable position all the same.

It had been years since she'd had this much trouble sleeping, she thought. And for more than just one night. It had started the first night T'Lea came aboard. There had been that conversation with Steve, bringing up things better left alone. And their middle-of-the-night meeting with Kareb. What was it about her, about her life, that was drawing her in so bad?

Ah, but there was no time to figure that out now. She needed sleep, and badly. Last time she'd gone without any sleep for days, she'd started having seizures again. And, of course, the powers that be at Starfleet Medical clamped down on her and put her on a 6-month probation from doing any surgeries ... something they would certainly do again if she continued on the course she was on.

Of course, this was something both T'Kara and Steve wouldn't hesitate to remind her about if they knew she wasn't sleeping well. And the readings from her neurocortical monitor were readily available to those charged with her "health," both physical and mental. She sometimes wished she didn't have to work with them every day.

And Steve ... _What was he thinking today?!_ What right had he to ask her out like that? He knew she wasn't interested ...

_Or was she?_

Olivia pushed that thought back to wherever it came from. She wasn't. _She was_ not _interested in Steve._

But that he had the gall to turn right around and ask Staci ...

Then again, hadn't she told him, "Maybe you can find someone else to go with you?"

Why did she even care that he asked Staci? That was great, all the better for them both, right?

Olivia sighed forcefully. Thinking about this _wasn't_ helping her get to sleep.

But Steve ...

She growled and threw the covers off. This was ridiculous. There was no way she'd ever get to sleep if she kept going like this. As much as she hated to, she knew it was time to seek medicinal help.

She glanced at the chronometer on her way out the door, hoping it was late enough that no one would be around to see her wandering through the ship in her pajamas. She didn't like people to see her in her pajamas.

She padded her way through the halls to Sickbay unnoticed. _Steve's liable to be there,_ she thought. _Maybe I'd better go to the upper level._

Changing course, Olivia headed for the nearest turbolift that would take her up to deck 6, to the small surgical/intensive care suite. She could sneak in there without Steve seeing her ... she hoped.

She entered her access number into the panel by the door and it opened with a swish. Olivia stepped backwards, even though she knew no one in the main part of Sickbay below could hear through the protective transparent aluminum walls.

The replicator prompted her for an access code and patient name. Reluctantly, she typed in her own name. The empty list of known medications and interactions popped up, along with a single medical condition, described as an "abnormality of the thalamo-cortical loop resulting in infrequent non-convulsive generalized seizures."

The description she had written herself, many years ago, before she had really been comfortable telling anyone in Starfleet that she had epilepsy.

When prompted, she entered the name of the medication and the dose she wanted, and it replicated a small vial filled with the slightly yellow liquid. She found a hypospray in the drawers and snapped the vial into place.

Pressing the tip over her right jugular vein, she pressed the button, and it delivered the contents in a short, mildly painful burst.

She quickly returned the hypospray to its drawer, and put the empty vial back on the replicator to be recycled. She knew from past experience that she had less than ten minutes until it would take effect.

Olivia quietly made her way back to her quarters, where she crawled under the covers, and, after a few minutes finally fell asleep.

* * *

Sickbay's doors swished open to reveal the cacophony of five critically ill patients awaiting her attention. She passed from one bed to the next, reading preliminary scan results, taking mental notes. One: ruptured cerebral aneurysm. Still conscious but falling fast. Two: fifty-nine percent burned, third and forth degree. Plasma burns. Degree of airway involvement unknown. Three: just brought in by security. Very aggressive and agitated, cause unknown. Consider psychiatric as well as medical causes. Fourth: impaled through lower lobe of left lung. Hemopneumothorax, cyanotic. Close to shock. Fifth: generalized convulsive seizure, unknown cause. Apparently been seizing since before they were brought in four minutes ago. Should be considered status epilepticus.

_Triage,_ her head told her, but, save for the third, they all needed her equally. It was chaos.

At the first bed, she read the results of the latest scan. Blood was flowing into the subarachnoid space, and her patient had just lost consciousness. Elevated blood pressure and some cardiac arrhythmias. She was showing signs of nuchal rigidity, suggesting initial onset of subarachnoid hemorrhage at six hours prior ...

As she set the curved vascular regenerator on the patient's forehead, Olivia grabbed the patient's thumbnail and squeezed. She opened her eyes and pulled her hand away. _Good,_ Olivia thought. _No abnormal posturing. Still comatose, though, GCS 2-1-4._

Making sure the vascular regenerator was doing its job, she turned around to face her next patient.

"Doctor - " he called out in a raspy voice.

She scanned him. Minor respiratory involvement due to breathing super-heated air. Rapid, shallow respirations, tachycardia, hypotension, narrowing pulse pressure. Hypovolemic shock.

A dermal regenerator would do no good for him, as there was little dermis left to regenerate.

Olivia turned suddenly. There was someone there, in the shadows, someone lurking, up to no good. She suppressed a shudder and continued on.

Another doctor came up behind her and began treating the burn patient, so she moved along to the fourth. The third behind her shouted incoherently at the security personnel beside him.

It looked like she had been impaled with a pipe or conduit, perhaps related to the the same incident as her second patient was involved in? Her breathing was very shallow, fast, labored, and she was displaying the signs of the first stages of shock. Every breath was agony. She was very pale, and her lips and nail beds were already very blue.

Olivia walked to the other side of her patient's bed to see the exit wound. She was lucky, the pipe had missed her spinal canal by more than an inch, but the destruction of her left lung was severe, and she had several fractured ribs. Judging by her emotional state, though, her brain was starting to suffer from lack of oxygen.

Just out of sight, that shadowy figure moved closer. What did he want with her, she wondered, with her patients? No one else seemed to pay him any mind.

Olivia scanned her patient. There was no known damage to the aorta or other major blood vessels. Of all her patients, she perhaps had the best chance.

Olivia noted that her fifth patient was _still_ seizing. _Damn,_ she thought. _It's been too long ..._

The fourth patient started to cough ... coughing up blood. _Agony,_ Olivia thought, and the word repeated itself in her mind. She grabbed a hypospray with bloody hands and realized she wasn't wearing gloves.

Somewhere in the room, a metal object clattered to the floor. Olivia jumped and turned to look, and found the shadowy figure much closer than before. She quickly administered the spray to her patient, then began on the fifth.

Scans on the fifth indicated no infectious diseases, no brain tumors, no traumatic injury, no swelling of the brain, no infarctions, no bleeding, no drug use or abuse ...

_What else?_ she thought. _What else can be causing this?_ She ran another scan, and all blood sugar, electrolyte, and other chemical levels were well within normal range for someone who had been seizing for the past ten minutes. _Damn._

She grabbed another hypospray, noted her hands were still bloody, and shot it into his neck. She waited. No response.

Two beds over, her third patient suddenly vomited blood. She cocked her head and ran through a list of possibilities as she administered another dose to her status patient.

The shadow was right behind her, less than a foot. She could hear him breathing.

No response to medication from patient number five. Refractory status epilepticus. _Damn, damn, damn ..._

Olivia felt something at her neck. She started to whirl around to face the shadow, but suddenly felt very faint, and fell to her knees.

As she stared into her bloodied hands, the rest of the room faded around her, and she was struck with the realization that none of her patients would be saved.

Slowly, she fell backwards towards the floor ...

* * *

Olivia found herself awake, staring wide-eyed at the darkness around her. Her heartrate was slightly elevated, but not pounding. She looked around, disquieted, uneasy. She felt like there should be someone waiting, lurking in the shadows. Had what she just experienced been a dream, or reality? Had he brought her here to her quarters before she regained consciousness?

_No,_ she thought. _I went to Sickbay earlier, took 5 cc's of dylamazine, came back here ..._

One of the side effects of this medication was unusually vivid, strange dreams. And the more nights she had gone without substantial sleep, the more unsettling her dreams naturally were.

"Damn," she said aloud. _I wanted to know what was wrong with the third._

Looking around the darkest corners of the room again, she got the distinct feeling that she wasn't looking for just _any_ shady figure, but for a very specific one. Solkan.

_Why him?_ she wondered. _He's never tried to keep me from saving anyone. He never even comes in to Sickbay! So why do I think he's the shadow guy?_

Forget it. Time to go to sleep.

* * *

**_This section is pictures only. This story *is* designed to be a simstory, with pictures.  Hopefully, they appear.  
_ ** **_Else, below is the description._ **

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

* * *

_Original dream from chapter two: 1) she walks in from the hall, 2) finds her fiance dying, 3) kneels down next to him. 4) They carry his body away on an anti-grav thing as she watches in the background._

Second: 1) she walks in from the hall, wearing her wedding dress and carrying a bouquet, 2) finds her fiance bleeding, dying, 3) sits next to him, getting blood on herself and her dress, 4) they take his body away, she watches, wearing her bloody wedding dress.

Third: 1) they stand together in the empty room, she is in her dress, 2) she calmly watches, holding her bouquet, as he is holding a knife, bleeding, 3) she sits on the floor, in her dress, holding his hand, he is bleeding everywhere, like before, 4) they take his body away as she watches

Fourth: 1) she enters the room from the hall, in her regular uniform again, 2) she shoots him with a phaser, 3) she stands over him, holding her phaser, watching as he bleeds out, 4) she watches as they take his body away

Fifth: 1) in uniform, she walks into the _Taurus'_ sickbay, 2) she approaches Steve, who sits on one of the biobeds, blood on the wall behind him, 3) she shoots Steve with a phaser, he is bleeding, 4) up-close of Steve, dead, blood covering him, eyes rolled back in his head.

* * *

Olivia screamed. She screamed until she was gasping for breath, shaking, sobbing, nauseous. She rocked herself back and forth, tears streaming down her face, crying "I killed him ... I killed him ... I killed him ..."

T'Kara's words came to mind, words she had told Olivia many times before. She'd said Olivia wasn't responsible for his death, that it was not her fault, that she'd done what she could. But T'Kara, and _all_ the other counselors she'd had to talk to, knew _nothing!_ He was dead because Olivia had _failed,_ because she hadn't seen it coming, because she hadn't been there soon enough, because she _couldn't save him!_

She was a doctor, damn it, and she hadn't even been able to save her own fiancee!

How many times had she said she loved him? How many times had she assured him he was safe with her? How many? Not enough!

If she had just tried harder, maybe he would have had a fighting chance, maybe he wouldn't have given up!

And now ... Steve ...

She couldn't bear for it to happen again.

What was it that T'Kara had said, about not being able to let go? Why she still could not take off his ring, after ten years? But why _should_ she let go?

Was it so she could be "free" to pursue other men? Was it so she could live a "fuller" life? Was it so she could forget her past and move on?

She would _never_ forget him! He had been the world to her. He had meant everything. To simply ... discard ... his memory so _she_ could continue _her_ life was ... impossible. Even ten years later, he still had her heart, had everything of her. And she would let nothing, no one, take him away from her again.

Exhausted and sweating , she crawled out of bed and collapsed against the side of it on the floor. The nausea from earlier had subsided once she calmed herself down a little. But she still felt drained, empty.

Slowly, she laid down on the floor, and surrendered to the exhaustion. There was really no use fighting now.

Sleep claimed her quickly.

* * *

"Sickbay to Dr. Hernandez."

Olivia groaned. _Where ..._

"Sickbay to Dr. Hernandez."

She groaned again and tried to sit up, but her back complained sharply.

"Dr. Hernandez!"

"What?!"

"Olivia, where _are_ you?" Steve snapped. "Your shift started fifteen minutes ago!"

"Damn!" she exclaimed. "Damn ... damn it!" She looked at the chronometer.

Despite the pain from sleeping on the floor, she jumped up and threw on her uniform as fast as she could. She barely had her shoes on when she ran out the door.

* * *

Sickbay's doors opened to Steve, standing arms crossed, waiting for her.

"It's about time."

"I - I'm - "

"You're the Chief Medical Officer, and this is the kind of example you set?"

"I'm never late!"

"Today you are! Twenty minutes!"

"I - "

"We talked about lateness in the department meeting yesterday, Olivia. The meeting that -"

"That, as I recall, _you_ were late to."

"It's the _only_ thing you recall about the meeting, too."

"I was - "

"I know you haven't been having seizures, Olivia, so you have no excuse. You weren't paying any attention at all."

"What business is it of _yours_ what I was doing during the meeting?"

"So I suppose I should follow your example now, huh?"

"What?"

"You heard me. Now, I've had a long night, so I'd be more than grateful if you'd let me get out of here in a timely manner."

" _You've_ had a long night?"

"Yes, I have. I've actually been working, not spending the night wandering around sickbay in my pajamas."

Olivia felt herself blush, and hid her face.

"If you don't mind, I'd like to go get some sleep."

"Go."

"Thank you," he said with more than a touch of sarcasm, and walked out.

* * *

"We should be arriving at Vulcan in approximately two hours, Captain."

"Any sign of a message from them yet, Ensign?"

"Negative, sir. Nothing from Vulcan."

"Any sign that their communications may be down, anything?"

"No sir, plenty of activity there. Just ... none for us."

"That's odd."

"Do you think something's wrong, sir?"

"Wrong?" He paused, thinking. "It's as if they aren't expecting us. We bring home two of their diplomats, and you'd think they'd expect us ..."

"Did Starfleet ever inform them that _we_ would be the ones bringing them home?" Solkan asked.

"I - I suppose I don't know."

"Don't worry yourself, then, Captain. Worry is illogical when you don't have all the necessary facts."

"I suppose you're right."

* * *

**One hour later**

"Ensign Newlin to the Captain."

"Go ahead, Ensign."

"Sir, we've had a slight malfunction with the transporters, it'll require a few minor repairs before we can use them again."

"What sort of malfunction?"

The phase transition coils are out of alignment. It should only take an hour or two to fix."

"We're less than an hour away from Vulcan, Ensign. Do what you have to, but make it quick."

* * *

"Dropping out of warp for arrival at Vulcan, sir."

"Standard orbit. Alert me if they hail us."

"Yes, sir."

"Ensign Newlin, how's the transporter coming?"

"It's coming, Captain. But it might be another fifteen to thirty minutes."

Andersen sighed. "Solkan, you're coming with me. Thelis, you have the bridge."

Once in the turbolift, Solkan turned to the Captain. "Where, precisely, are we going?"

"You are going down to the transporter room to see what's going on, to help the Ensign if you can. I am going to inform T'Lea and Kareb of our current situation."

Solkan nodded slightly. This was going exactly as planned.

They exited the turbolift on Deck 7, just between Sickbay and Transporter Room 2.

"Captain," he began, "perhaps - "

Thelis' voice interrupted him. "Captain, we're being hailed."

"Good. We're just past sickbay, route it down there. Solkan, you go ahead and talk to T'Lea and Kareb. Apologize to them for me, will you?"

"Yes, Captain." This was going even better than planned.

* * *

"Good morning, Doctor."

Olivia barely looked up from her lab work to greet the Captain.

"If you'll excuse me for a moment," he said, "I need to borrow one of your lab screens."

"Go ahead."

Andersen recognized the Vulcan woman that appeared as Admiral T'Rena, one of the Vulcans' top brass. "I apologize for the delay, Admiral," he said.

"It is of no matter, Captain ..."

"Andersen, _USS Taurus._ "

"What can we do for you, Captain Andersen?"

"Do? We're returning your ambassadors - T'Lea and Kareb - "

"I apologize, Captain -" She began, but stopped short. "For the inconvenience. Had it been possible, we would have sent for them ourselves."

"Of course," he said. "It's no problem."

* * *

"It is gracious of you to allow me to talk to you before you leave," Solkan said as he stood in the doorway of T'Lea and Kareb's quarters.

T'Lea motioned him towards a chair.

"The Captain and I were a bit ... concerned ... that no one on Vulcan seemed aware of our arrival. It seemed a bit unusual for ambassadors such as yourselves to have such a ... quiet entrance."

"There is no cause for concern, Commander. T'Lea and I are no longer ambassadors, we have retired. We are simple stellar cartographers with a background in diplomatic service. From time to time our knowledge is requested, especially in such 'unofficial' situations as the one on Cirtri."

"Your 'knowledge?'"

"Of diplomatic affairs and communication."

"Or your services?"

"What are you implying, Commander?"

"I am not implying anything, Ambassador. I am simply asking a question."

"We do not have any 'service' that we offer. We bring our knowledge into a situation where it is requested, that is all."

"Then perhaps you would be interested in another 'situation' - "

"I apologize, Commander, but we only operate through regular channels."

" - a sharing of knowledge, as it may be."

"What knowledge would we possibly have, that would interest an individual, a Commander in Starfleet? And what kind of knowledge do you believe we would be interested in from you?"

Under her breath, T'Lea whispered, "A _Lieutenant_ Commander."

"We have a lot in common, you know. There are things we could accomplish ... which could not be done alone."

"We are stellar cartographers and independent consultants. You are a Starfleet officer. What you 'accomplish,' and what we 'accomplish,' are in entirely different realms. What is it that you want from us?"

"What do I want? Information, knowledge, just like you do."

"We could arrange for you to be enrolled in diplomatic services training on Vulcan, if that is your wish."

"You retired eight years ago, yet you still have full access, don't you?"

"Access to _what? _"__

"And you regularly attend sensitive 'diplomatic' meetings and negotiations. You _dine_ with leaders from throughout the quadrant. You -"

" _If_ that were the case, we would not share such confidential information with anyone in Starfleet, especially one so low in the chain of command."

"You have a such a degree of autonomy, that you never had before you retired -"

Solkan's communicator beeped, nearly catching him off guard. "Solkan here."

"Transporter room reports ready, sir," spoke the voice of Ensign Newlin.

"Thank you, Ensign."

Before he could speak again, his combadge sounded a second time. "Solkan here."

"Transporters are back online, no further problems," the Captain said. "Meet me in five minutes?"

"Aye, sir."

" _Back_ online?" Kareb said.

"We had some maintenance that took slightly longer than expected."

"We appreciate having been informed, Commander," he replied, voice dripping with as much sarcasm as his perfect Vulcan demeanor could muster.

* * *

Standing in Transporter Room Two, Kareb handed a PADD back to Ensign Newlin, transport coordinates entered.

"Are you sure these are correct, Ambassador?"

"I know my own home planet, Ensign. Those are the correct coordinates." He stepped up onto the pad, and T'Lea followed.

Without the normal formalities expected from a departing Ambassador and the Captain who hosted him, Kareb simply inclined his head towards the Captain and said, "It was agreeable seeing you again, Captain."

T'Lea, having been silent since before they entered the room, finally spoke up. "Give our 'regards' to your parents."

"I will."

Kareb lifted his hand, giving the traditional Vulcan farewell. Then, with a shimmer of light, the couple dematerialized.

"What was their destination?" asked Solkan.

"A small city in the northwestern continent, population approximately -"

"In other words, not the capital city."

"Yes, sir. That is correct. It's not even a major metropolitan area."

"It's where they live, Solkan. They're going to the city where they live. The question is, _why?_ Why is no one waiting for them, expecting their arrival?"

"Perhaps your earlier concerns may have been founded, Captain."


	5. Pursuit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In case it is not clear, all events of this chapter take place within a 5-month period (except for the one paragraph that explains what happened "four years ago," you know).

**Chapter 5: Pursuit**

* * *

For three months, Steve and Staci continued seeing each other, though it became clear that if he had ever been truly attracted to her, he really had no interest anymore. They met once a week for a lunch "date," and only ever talked about work. There were no more flowers, no more effort, and no more pursuit. He knew it had been a mistake to bring her into his conflict with Olivia, to use her just to spite her. Only out of some sense of obligation, some desire not to hurt him, did Staci continue to hold on to the strings of what was left of their romance. Steve, on the other hand, clung to the hurt and betrayal and tried unsucessfully to create from it something like love.

The rest of the medical staff saw what was going on between Steve, Staci, and Olivia, and chose to keep their distance. Olivia chose to ignore all of them, pretending she wasn't hurt, pouring herself into her work until it was all she was. She worked extra hours, and ran surgical simulations in the holodeck when she was avoiding Steve in Sickbay. She had found an outlet in her interest in T'Lea, so she allowed it to consume her thoughts. Day in and day out, she obsessed over the procedure, perfecting it, reviewing it, researching and testing even less conventional alternatives, logging hours upon hours of surgical simulations. And when she slept, she dreamed of of surgery and not of a painful past.

* * *

Four years earlier, a young Andorian investigative jourmalist had stumbled upon some disturbing facts, facts implying corruption in the upper levels of Starfleet, things accessible to the public but not under public scrutiny. He spent time researching, gathering more information, before he felt he had a workable theory. His conclusion: that Section 31 was now held control of Starfleet Command, and therefore, of everything done by Starfleet. When he finally brought forth his evidence to the public, some were interested, but too many dismissed it as paranoid, citing the simple fact that he was Andorian as enough evidence to that point. For almost three years, the man continued to have a neglected presence in the media, his ideas listened to by some but ultimately dismissed by many.

Suddenly, near the end of the most recent Terran calendar year, he publicly announced his resignation from the news agency that employed him. Some suspected they had pressured the resignation, others wondered if he'd had some sort of mental breakdown and holed up on some barren asteroid. A few even said he had been kidnapped and was sitting in some prison somewhere. But within a few weeks, all conversation about him died down as he was relegated to the back corners of the public mind.

* * *

Over the next few months after arriving back home on Vulcan, T'Lea and Kareb recieved and ignored multiple subspace messages originating from the Taurus. At first, they hoped for some news about their daughter, three years ago sucked into some strange rift which transported her and her ship to an alternate universe. But Andersen and his crew hadn't been able to keep contact with her, and in fact had been assigned to other missions over time.

They determined that every single message, save three, originated from the science officer, all encrypted with diplomatic codes. Since their face-to-face encounter the last time they were aboard the Taurus, it had become clear he had nothing important to say.

Thelis, the Captain, and Olivia continued to work together to crack through the codes Solkan used, without much success. They first discovered the new recipient, someone unknown on Vulcan, the multiple messages with no reply. Eventually, their work paid off, and they were able to determine the intended recipient, still if not the contents.

Still, it stumped them why Solkan should have such interest in T'Lea and Kareb, that he should attempt to contact them so often. He had been their missing daughter's bethrothed mate, but hadn't made any previous attempts to contact them regarding her. And in every other case, he only used the encryption codes when he had something to hide. Thelis, working on that assumption, tried to find a connection between his contact with Hanson and when he contacted T'Lea and Kareb, but there was no appreciable pattern. Olivia then contacted them herself three times, telling herself it had nothing to do with the surgery, but was only to "apologize" for Solkan's relentlessness.

* * *

As for the rest of the Federation, there were some outlying planets, part of a near-rebellious coalition of developing member worlds, that were under attack from a relatively powerful group of pirates in the sector. Instead of seeking assistance from Starfleet, the planets sought assistance from a quasi-military group long descended from the Maquis, the organization formed over 50 years ago near the time of the Dominion War. The group was in Starfleet's good graces, so Starfleet allowed them to defend the worlds which were not in their good graces.

The neo-Maquis' actions in the area led to a subtle shift in the balance of trade, leading to Ferengi merchants going head-to-head with their Tellarite competitors in a sector where the Tellarites previously had the biggest operation. These Tellarite - and Ferengi - merchants began to view Starfleet as weak and even incompetent and found themselves agreeing more and more with the ideology of the outlying worlds and their militant leader.

Cirtri's rival governments, however, never showed any official action, too afraid of open war on their planet. But behind the scenes, each side had formed alliances, the political atmosphere of their planet echoing the Federation as a whole. Not a member planet itself, Cirtri had become a place where disagreements could be hashed out and where both sides oddly felt safe.

* * *

Solkan visited Dr. T'Kara's office several times in those few months, seeking mental training from her, a more powerful telepath, to bolster his own below-average telepathic abilities. She turned him away every time, making it clear that she was not qualified and was not interested in doing such a thing. He began to visit her quarters when they were both off duty, but never got to stay any longer than 60 seconds.

Undeterred by his failure, he began meeting Ensign Newlin in Engineering at the end of her shifts, walking with her to the recreation lounge where she sat with him, looking absolutely terrified to be there. They sat in the far corner, away from others who might eavesdrop. To her relief, she always returned to her quarters alone. When questioned later by Thelis about these encounters, she said they were simply discussing work, allocation of ship's resources to the transporters, and a possible path towards promotion for her.

Near the end of the year, Solkan began repeatedly contacting a young female Vulcan officer aboard the USS Antares, where he had been stationed before coming aboard Taurus. The Captain, Thelis, and Olivia soon found this ship to be heavily controlled by Section 31. However, he chose not to hide his activity, as he was asking her to become his mate.

The Antares officer initially refused, and Solkan, now in the throes of pon farr, assaulted Dr. T'Kara the same day, causing enough injury that she spent the evening in Sickbay. TheAntares officer finally accepted, though now that the communications were being encrypted, it may have only been because of threat of force.

Reluctantly, the Captain allowed Solkan to travel via shuttlecraft to the Antares, from which he returned much calmer but with new encryption codes.

Back on duty, Solkan began to exercise his freedom as Operations Manager to leave his station on the bridge and visit Chief Engineer Calais down in Engineering. Though a Changeling, she had always been far too timid to do any covert work for Section 31, but Solkan always pushed her in that direction. The Captain, Thelis, and Olivia assumed that was the nature of his visits, until an anonymous report came to Thelis from someone who had witnessed Solkan pulling Cal off into an empty side room near Main Engineering, with his arm around her waist. The source said she looked reluctant to go and seemed to pull away from his touch. When questioned, however, Calais claimed no recollection of any such event and rejected the implication that Solkan would act with such impropriety.

Then, late one night, the brig commander, an Allasomorph named Lassasia, showed up in Dr. T'Kara's office, asking vague questions about Vulcans and forced mind-melds. Sensing her unshielded fear, T'Kara brought her across the hall to Sickbay, where Steve was on duty. Though the night, the two doctors observed and comforted her. Once Steve had researched her physiology, he determined there was no physical harm done. T'Kara then left Sickbay, passing a PADD with her office hours to Lassassia on the way out. In the morning, Olivia arrived for her shift and asked Steve if they had questioned the girl or alerted security. Offended that she would think them so incompetent as to forget something that critical, Steve called T'Kara back to Sickbay, pulled Olivia into his office and angrily explained all that had happened that night. Olivia remained oblivious to the reason for his anger. T'Kara entered, interrupting their argument, and showed the final incident report, which only said she had been assaulted by an "unknown Vulcan male." She again left Steve and Olivia to work together to wrap things up with Security and discharge Lassassia, who had made her decision not to pursue further investigation to identify the "unknown" man.

And finally, after nearly five months of avoiding each other, Steve and Olivia finally worked up the courage to tolerate each other's presence while on duty in Sickbay, ignoring the awkwardness between them rather than ignoring each other.


End file.
